The End Of The Rain
by whitereflections12
Summary: My version of Ian and Wanderer's first night together, the night after all threat of rains ends and they have moved back on their own. I was just DYING to write this...some sort of compulsion, lol.


My first Host fanfic!! And I dearly hope it's enjoyed, because writing it was a compulsion…I just couldn't resist it even though I needed to go to bed DESPERATELY and I needed to do schoolwork and I needed to write something for a friend and, yeah….none of that happened.

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I had never been more nervous in my life than I was the day the rains stopped. More than that, I had never, until that day, truly realized all the different ranges of 'nervous' that there were. I had been the frightened sort of a nervous a thousand times since we had left the road that day and walked into the desert. That kind of nervous was burned into my memory, shifted into a myriad of intensities. The moment Jeb had found us, hearing the helicopter blades, holding Kyle on the crumbling ledge, sitting with Jared in the van while a Seeker approached. All different levels of terrifying nervousness. But this kind…this kind was different.

I was nervous now in a way that made my heart jump erratically every time I so much as came close enough to Ian to feel his warm, smell his scent. My breath would catch, my hands even shaking if I dwelled on the thought. We spent the day in moving everyone back to their rooms, and though the work was loud, everyone talkative and generally excited to be out of such close quarters, I barely spoke a word. This was so different, though, from anything I had felt before. I wasn't _afraid_, not really. There was a measure of fear involved, but it was a different kind of fear I couldn't put a name on. I could remember it in Mel's memories though, before her first time with Jared. Anticipation, she had said, and fear because she didn't exactly know what she was doing. After seeing her memories, sharing them, I should have been less afraid. I _should_ know what I was doing. And I did, in theory. But it was still all new, all fresh.

Now that I knew the time was so close at hand, the waiting was driving me mad.

And, it was taking my appetite. At the moment, Ian was with Kyle and Jeb, which left me with Jared, Mel, and Jamie. If I had been paying attention, I would have known that my disinterest in my dinner couldn't possibly go unnoticed. Jamie nudged me with his elbow, his forehead creasing. "Hey, Wanda, come on. You've gotta be hungry. What's wrong?"

I jerked a little, then swallowed hard, buying a moment. My palms clenched nervously, and not for the first time I wished this body didn't respond so overtly to stress. "I'm fine, Jamie. Just not hungry that's all."

Mel shot me a look, eyebrows raised and all. I knew it far too well, knew her far too well, and I was glad that she hadn't actually chosen to say 'oh really?' out loud. Jared looked up too, puzzled for a moment, but I could see the wheels turning in his mind and I knew when he figured it out by the way he grinned. I was more relieved than I could ever say to know honestly that it didn't affect me anymore. I could see the warmth of it, the soft fan of creases from the corners of those hazel eyes, and still I didn't want him, my body didn't burn for him. I loved him, certainly, as a brother and one my best friends, but I was no longer in love with him, and that knowledge was so incredibly freeing.

He laughed warmly, eyes dancing. "You're sure, Wanda? I mean, if you don't want soup, I think we've still got one of those chip boxes. I could go get you some Cheetos."

"Yeah, or I could!" Jamie, of course.

I glared at Jared, though I knew this body was far less menacing than Mel could be. Kyle had told me I looked like a hissing kitten. I was glad someone, at least, found it amusing. "No thanks, Jared. I'm not hungry."

Jared snickered, though he stopped when Jamie shot him a puzzled look. I could hear Jared swear softly under his breath, and I was almost positive Mel's elbow had connected with his ribs. She smiled warmly for me and rolled her eyes, then focused on stealing Jamie's attention. "So, Jared was talking about _maybe_ trying for a basketball hoop on our next raid. What do you think, bud?"

"That's awesome! Jared, please do it! I…"

I let my attention drift from the conversation, certain he was sufficiently distracted. I was glad he was still young enough that it was so easy to make him happy. It would be a simple thing for me to walk into a sports store and get a small hoop for us. I would have to thank Mel, later, for getting his attention off me for the time being.

I knew the warm hands on my shoulders instantly, before he spoke. "Did I miss anything?" My heart danced in response, my mouth dry.

I shook my head slowly, leaned back into his touch. "No. Not really."

I hadn't turned, and I could see him, but I could feel him so acutely, knew in my mind how he would look as he stepped closer, his grip tightening, his lips finding the top arch of my ear to whisper against. "You're not hungry?"

My body shivered, and I could feel a blush rising in my cheeks. No, I wasn't hungry. At least, not in the conventional sense. Mel, I knew, would have argued that I was indeed very hungry, but not for anything I could find in the kitchens. I shook my head again, quicker this time. "No."

I could feel his breath on my ear, hot and even. I could hardly keep from shaking. "Me either. Ready to go?"

Yes. Yes, and no. Both answers at once, but the yes much more so than the no. I said nothing, simply stood with him, took his offered hand. It was warm and so perfectly Ian. His hands were rough as Jared's, though the calluses felt slightly different, and his were larger, so very much larger than my tiny ones. My eyes found Mel's before I left, and though I wasn't sure what she saw in them, it made her hesitate.

"Wanda?"

"No." Only we could have conversations like this, and normally, I loved the odd looks it got us. Even knowing that we had shared a body for so long, people still seemed shocked when we had silent or single word conversations. I had known she would ask if I wanted to talk, but I didn't, now. I was going to be fine. Well. Nervous, but fine.

She smiled and relaxed, though she still reached back to brush her hand against my arm as I walked by.

We made our way back to his-well, _our_, now-room in silence, my hand still in his. He opened the grey door for me, and I stepped into the room, into a shaft of fading sunlight throwing a last golden patch against the wall. I had turned away from him, facing the beds, trying to decide between mine and his. Mine had been Kyle's, before. Would he prefer his own? Then again, we had slept in mine, the nights that I had slept here.

His arms wound gently around my waist and he nuzzled through my golden hair, lips brushing a soft kiss against the skin of my neck. I reached back, anchored my hand in his curls and leaned back to find his lips with my own. He obliged, though the pace he set for the kiss was very slow and a little too careful, and he pulled back when I tried to deepen it.

He sighed softly, his breath barely ghosting across my lips. "Wanderer…listen, we don't have to do anything tonight. You know that, don't you? Nothing has to change. Do you have idea how happy it makes me just to be able to hold you in my arms? And I can keep doing that. That's fine with me."

"I know. Of course, I know." I stroked his cheek, shifted to better look into those deep blue eyes. It was hard to get the words out, and I hoped he heard them. "But I want this."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." And I was, desperately sure. I had never wanted anything as much as I wanted him. Not even in the beginning, when I had thought there was nothing I would ever desire more than Jared, even that had not been as strong as this. It had been strong, and overwhelming, even more so because it was the first time I had ever felt desire. The desire I felt for Ian was deeper, more meaningful, and with every day that passed in this new body, this body that had belonged to no one, I was beginning to feel the wildfire when he touched me. Like putting my hand to an open flame. Yes, I wanted him. I was sure that I still didn't really know how much, that I couldn't even grasp it until after.

He slid his hand down my left arm, gripped my unoccupied hand in his. "You're shaking."

"I…I'm just nervous."

"Wanda…" He moved down lower on my neck, left a kiss at the hollow of my throat. "I don't want you to be afraid. This can wait, I promise, it's alright."

I pressed back a little closer against him, tangling my fingers in his hair again to pull his head back so I could better access his jawline for a row of light kisses. I both felt and heard his breath catch, his fingers tighten on me. "I'm not afraid of you."

"No, not of me, but of-" He sucked in a breath very sharply, his body tensing. I paused where I was, pulling my lips back only a fraction from where I had been sucking gently on his skin. He took an unsteady breath before he could even speak again, and the first time he did I lost his words entirely. My head was spinning, drunk off of the memory of the way his breath had sounded when I had done that to him, the way his muscles had clenched, the way his eyes had somehow become an even deeper blue.

But he _had_ said something, and I probably needed to hear it. I felt the brush rise in my cheeks, the words coming out in a mumble. "Sorry, what?"

He smiled softly, and it warmed my heart to see it. I loved his smile. "I know you're not afraid of me, but if you're not ready, if you're unsure about this at all, we should wait. We can take this slow."

"Ian…" I twisted in his arms, pleased when he wrapped them closer around me, his hands coming to rest against my lower back. I took his face in my hands, fell into his eyes. I wanted him to see all the sincerity in mine, and I hoped to any higher power listening my hands weren't shaking right now. Because one thing among many that Melanie had been absolute right on was the fact that we never knew how much time we had, not ever. And now, I couldn't bear the thought of dying without truly being with him first. "I want this. Truly, I want this. I am ready, I'm just…" I bit my lip, thinking over the phrasing. "This is just new, for me. I've never…" My blush increased about tenfold, and I cursed my body again. Stupid, stupid blushing Pet. "I mean, I had Melanie's memories, but _I've_ never, not myself, and that was different anyway it was-" I stopped myself before I could say Jared, afraid he would take it the wrong way. It wasn't that I was expected those memories to be stronger, on the contrary, I knew whatever happened between me and Ian would, for me, far surpass them all. "Well, you know. So I know what I'm doing in theory but not…I've just…this is all new, and I'm just nervous."

His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing casually across my lips. It left a trail of fire in its wake. "You're sure?"

His eyes were burning into mine. I could almost see the rising blue flames, and I vaguely remembered Jeb telling me once that blue fires burned the hottest. "Yes."

"Don't be nervous." He pulled me closer, brushed my curtain of hair away to nuzzle his head against my throat, lips trailing down toward my shoulder. "Don't. It's alright."My heart was pounding, hands trembling again now that I realized he was done protesting. Apparently, I had assured him of my certainty. His tongue flicked warm across my skin, and my hands tightened on his throat, my breath coming quick and uneven. "You see…" His lips brushed easily across my skin as he spoke, his hands rubbing my back gently, carefully. I pressed closer, desperate to ignite the spark I could feel crackling between us. "It's all instinct."

Yes, that was probably true. But I wasn't human, and I didn't have those instincts. But he knew me far too well by now, and when I opened my mouth to speak his fingers came up to cover my lips, though they were replaced quickly by his own. He kissed me deeply, his tongue tangling with mine so skillfully I forgot everything I could have been going to say, everything I was even thinking. There was nothing but the feel of him, nothing but the pleasure of it, nothing but the desire to be as close to him as possible and to never let go, to never break this contact again. My arms had wrapped around his neck on their own, and from a distance I felt them pull him closer as he did something particularly interesting. His grip tightened in response, and he repeated the action, his tongue gliding across the sensitive roof of my mouth, tasting. I whimpered, squirmed against him in an effort to somehow get closer. The sound affected him more profoundly than I would have expected. He groaned, his lips breaking from mine as he gasped for breath, his hold shifting to lift me as he backed us quickly onto the bed. He eased me back first, a little clumsily because he wouldn't let go. That was alright with me; I didn't want him to. He rested over me on his arms and I tugged him forward, wishing he would let me feel more of his weight. The heat of his body alone was setting fire to my skin, no, farther than that. In my very bones.

His lips were trailing a path down my neck, his hands sliding up under the hem of my t-shirt. They rested over my ribs, and I felt him hesitate, thumbs tracing across my skin as he paused to feel my chest expand and retract. There was something in his eyes then I couldn't quite place, something close to fear but before I could have time to really wonder what he was thinking he brought his hands up quickly, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it to the floor. He licked his lips as his eyes raked over me, and I shuddered at the sight. There was something so primal about it, something that effected me on a level that went deeper than thought. I moved one hand to the nape of his neck, stroking him. He arched into the caress, even as his hands on my back coaxed me to arch into him, giving him access to the clasp behind me. It took him a moment, but I was far too distracted to be impatient. He was kissing every inch of skin that he could already reach, and each one felt as sharp as a brand, pleasure so intense it was white hot.

He pulled the cloth away slowly, let it drop to the floor without ever taking his eyes off me. Starting at my shoulder, he slid his hand down to cup my breast, his thumb smoothing across the sensitive tip. It felt so much better than I had anticipated and I gasped, pressing into his hand.

"Oh, Wanderer…"It was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, his head dropping to my chest.

He worshipped me. There was no other word for it. He started on the left, kissing and sucking the skin avidly, lingering on the sensitive tips and on any spot that made me particularly squirm. It was wonderful and maddening, and I lost all control of the soft noises coming from my throat, of the way my fingers twisted desperately in his tangled curls. Finally, I really could take it no longer and I tugged hard enough to get his attention, to bring his lips back up to mine.

This time, I took control, pulled his bottom lip between my teeth and into my mouth like I knew he loved. The response was not all disappointing, more intense by far than it had been that first time in the tunnel. He moaned loudly, shifted his arms to clutch my body close. In doing so, his weight finally shifted to rest more on me, and I could truly feel him. All of him. In particular, I could feel his hard length pressed against me, and my body reacted very instinctively and all on its own. I moaned, my legs falling open for him, hips bucking upward to feel him better. Even through our jeans, the shock of pleasure that action sent through my body had me seeing stars. He responded with an initial thrust of his own, a soft growl rising in his chest. His muscles tensed then and he stilled his movements, breaking the kiss to pull back just enough to breath, his breath coming in pants. I could see his eyes close in concentration, a muscle in his jaw clenching hard. I should have been still, helped him, but I just couldn't help it. I was too far gone for that, everything was lost in a haze of heat, of blue flame, and the only thing I could focus on was how that heat had settled between my legs in an intensity that bordered on pain, and the fact that moving against him had soothed that ache.

"Ian…" I whimpered his name, pressed into him again.

His jaw clenched even harder, and when his eyes opened the power in them took my breath away. I had never seen them scorch, not really. Not until this moment. But the _love_ there…it made it hard to breathe, almost enough to bring tears to my eyes. His hand went to my hip, holding me firmly in place, pinned to the mattress. He brushed his lips against mine, deliberately slow. "Easy, sweetheart. Slow, alright? We need to do this slow."

Slow? It was killing me already, this ache for him. I wasn't sure how much longer I could wait, but I trusted him implicitly. I tugged on his shirt, frustrated at the barrier and he helped me, releasing his grip for a moment to toss it over his head. My hands were on his chest instantly, shaping to the subtle curves of his muscles, memorizing the hard planes of them. He was the perfect balance of beautiful and strong, and I could only imagine the awe in my eyes as I drank him in. "You're beautiful." I said it before I realized I had, then bit my lip, immediately uncertain. I shouldn't have been.

He chuckled, low and warm, and I felt the tip of his nose graze my cheek before his lips pressed lightly to my temple. "I'm glad you think so."

There was no matter of 'thought' about it, it was simply what he was, but I didn't feel like discussing the distinction with him at the moment. He sat back from me, and I reached for him, protesting the lack of contact. I had grown accustomed already to the feel of his body pressed fully against mine, and his absence felt unbearable. He caught my arm, gently stroked my wrist before letting go again, his hands moving quickly to the button on his jeans. Oh. _Oh._

Hands shaking a little, I unfastened my own, pushing them and my underwear down and off the edge of the bed. I looked up then, looked over at him, took a deep breath before really seeing him for the first time. Beautiful had been an understatement. I didn't have the word, but I would figure it out, eventually. All of him was perfectly muscled, toned in the way a panther would be. And as for _that_ part of him… Pet's extremely naïve memories wouldn't have known, and Mel had never had too much reference, but to my eyes he was…well, perfect. Big, but perfect. I couldn't help for a moment worrying, dwelling for a second on how very small I was in comparison, but that thought was gone quickly and I was moving forward, molding against him as my hand travelled down to take his length in my palm.

The skin was silky under my fingers, incredibly soft. I stroked him gently, so very uncertain because I really didn't know what I was doing. He gasped, his fingers gently curling around mine to guide me to increase the pressure. I did, and his hand fell away, grasping at the sheets. My next stroke was surer, firmer, and I took up a faster pace. His body shuddered against me, his eyes closing as his head fell back. I watched him, entranced. I had never seen him like this, but I wanted nothing more than to see that look on his face over and over for the rest of my life. His jaw was slack, his breath coming in gasps, his heart pounding against me in his chest. On impulse I squeezed him gently at the end of a stroke and I felt him twitch in my hand. "_God_ Wanderer…" The hand he still had in the sheets was twisting furiously, tightly, and it was only a moment before he caught my wrist, stopping me and pushing me back to lay down again, resting over me. His breath was still erratic, and he kissed me loosely, passionately before whispering against my lips. "You are far, far too good at that. And as much as I never wanted you to stop, for tonight, I have other plans."

I tensed as I felt his hand slid between us, gasped he cupped my center in his palm. He parted the folds gently, sliding his thumb in first to brush against…something that made me cry out, my hips bucking into his hand on their own. His lips were against my shoulder, and I could feel him grin.

"I knew you'd like this."

I couldn't answer, could only make incoherent sounds. He continued to stroke me with his thumb as he readjusted his hold, sliding one finger inside me. it felt different but wonderful, and when he wriggled it gently against the muscle I pressed harder into him, loving the feeling. He caught my lips in a kiss as he slid the second finger in, and though it was a bit uncomfortable, his tongue dancing with mine and the steady strokes of his thumb soothed that away almost instantly. He began to move his hand then, rocking gently in and out, still stroking me. The feeling was indescribable, the heat between my legs reaching an incredible high. My hips were soon moving with him, a low steady whimper escaping my chest that I was almost certain was his name.

He took my head in his other hand, tipped it back to have better access to my neck. His lips fastened over my pulse, sucking hard on my skin as the world fell into a million pieces. There could be no feeling better, no high greater. My whole body arched against him, and I felt as if I were both burning and flying, my only anchor his hands on me. I could feel him groan against my skin as my muscles clenched around his fingers, felt him twitch against my thigh. When I came down from the haze he slid his hand from me gently, moving to grip my hip. His touch was wet, and the shock of air on damp skin as it transferred to me made me shiver.

I could feel him against my entrance then, so close. I moved to struggle against him but his hold stopped me, and my eyes were drawn up to his own. "This…Wanda it…"

It would hurt, I knew, and he didn't have to say that. I remembered, and I knew the moment he could see that in my eyes, the moment he gave up on apologizing. I slid my hands up, gripped his shoulders hard. "Please, Ian."

He kissed me tenderly, languidly. "I love you."

"I love you, Ian." He pressed in slowly, with incredible restraint. When he met with resistance he paused, then got the worst over with quickly, one swift stroke. The pain was actually a little more than I expected, and I clenched my teeth against the cry that threatened to escape. I would not, _would not_, have him hear that. My nails dug hard into his skin, impossibly hard and I wondered if I was drawing blood. If I did, he didn't care.

He had stilled inside me, fully sheathed in my body. His lips were everywhere along my shoulders, my neck, my face, soft murmured comfort pouring in a constant stream from his mouth. Slowly, much more slowly than I wanted it to, the pain began to fade into a dull sort of discomfort. I felt stretched, full, and the knowledge broke over me that Ian, _my _Ian was inside me, was one with me. That was enough. I turned my head to kiss his shoulder, my death grip loosening, hands stroking down his back. "It's ok. It's better now. Please, Ian…"

Slowly, carefully, he pulled almost all the way out before easing back in. His eyes remained always on my face, and it was only when he had assured himself he wasn't really hurting me that he let himself go a little bit, a long, low moan escaping his chest. The sound sent an electric shock through me, heat and pleasure jumping through my veins like jagged lightning. Desperately, I wanted to hear him make that noise again. When he moved again, I could feel something start to change. Even the discomfort was fading, my body stretching to accommodate him. He fit me perfectly, truly. As if this body had always been fated to be his. The friction that had hurt before was feeling better every second, and when he shifted his grip his angle shifted just a little with it, just enough to hit something inside me that poured lava between my hips and drew soft cry from my throat.

That was all it took to break his careful self control. His slow pace quickened, not too fast but certainly faster than before. I could feel the blaze climbing higher again, the pleasure that was almost pain building with every move we made. Desperate to take him in farther, I shifted, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. He moaned again, this time, my name. I clenched my hands on his back, felt his muscles flex.

If I had never understood before the power of human emotions, the realization would have come to me then, while making love to Ian. For that was the only way to describe it, honestly. This went far beyond mating rituals or courtship displays among partners. This was true lovemaking; intense, passionate, and by its nature so very beautifully human. There was nothing stronger in all the universe than the bond I could feel us forging, _nothing_ stronger than the connection we shared in that moment. If there was, after seven planets I surely would have found it. No, there was nothing like this.

I had thought, before, that there could be no greater high than the one I had reached when he touched me, but I had been so very wrong. I had simply not had the proper perspective for comparison. The feel of falling over the edge with him inside me, of hearing him cry out as my muscles clenched around him, feeling him pulse and give himself over to me, that feeling was by far greater, and utterly unequivocal.

He clung to me afterward, his lips loosely travelling from collarbone to collarbone, murmuring my name against my skin over and over again. I trailed my hands up his back, buried my fingers in his hair and pulled him close to breathe him in, letting his scent wash over me. My Ian.

Drawing back a little he pulled out carefully, kissing my lips gently when I gasped at the loss of him. He rolled over onto his back, his arms open for me to nestle against his chest. I moved as close as I could, my leg wrapping over his so I could press against his thigh. I was missing the feel of being one with him already, and I knew that now that he had been inside me I would never feel whole without him there. His arms held tight, his left hand coming up to brush the hair away from my shoulder, the caress following all the way down to my elbow, burning my skin. I could feel it now, and I understood. This body would forever belong to him, in the same way that Melanie's body had forever belonged to Jared. It was right. More than that, it was perfect. I sighed, my hand absently stroking against his chest. I could feel the fine sheen of sweat there, could feel his heart slowing, his breath evening.

His warm, calloused hand cupped my cheek, and I looked up at him, my heart jumping erratically in my chest at the look in his eyes. "So, good?"

"No." I grinned, kissed his chest before the word could have a chance to wound him. "Amazing. Beyond amazing."

He grinned back, wide and happy and sleepy all at once. "Yeah, I thought so too."

"Good." I nestled a little higher against him, my head resting now against his shoulder.

Reaching down and fishing around for a moment he found a blanket and he pulled it easily over us, tucking it especially tight around my shoulders. "Warm enough?"

"Mmhm." I was feeling the weariness now, after a hard day of a lot of walking back and forth. Not to mention the nerves. And now this. I could tell, now, that I was going to be sore. Not that I minded.

"Sleepy?"

"Mmhm."

His chest moved a little with his warm, soft laugh, and I sighed as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I love you. More than anything. So much I could have never imagined it until I felt it."

That made perfect sense, really, for us both. He could have never seen himself loving one of my kind, and after so many thousands of years I had given up on loving anyone at all. "Love, I know exactly what you mean."

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Well, there it is. I really hope it came out well. : )

And for anyone who's interested, my next update will be on To Love and Protect, because a friend of mine is having some really tough times right now, and she's hooked on my writing and I told her she was say for the next week or so…so whatever she wants is what's gonna get written. And I wanted to finish that for her tonight, but I have GOT to go to bed, seriously….was up till 4:30 last night and now it's 2:50 tonight and I have to be up 7 tomorrow morning.

I'm going to wish I was dead. .


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